


kicking goals

by kittymills



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: "friendsheith", Gen, M/M, Pre Kerberos, Shiro POV, Word Sprint, bad space puns, canonverse, fudged timeline, shiro disease mention, unhappy adashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23410882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittymills/pseuds/kittymills
Summary: There are a lot of goals that Takashi Shirogane wants to kick before the official diagnosis of his disease threatened to derail the plans he had for his life.Some were simpler than others.“Come on, Keith. That was a good one, you have to admit it. Not even a smile? Not a… wait, I think I just saw something. There was a twitch. Definitely a twitch, right Matt?”
Relationships: Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Keith & Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 102





	kicking goals

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rubyneko5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubyneko5/gifts).



> This was supposed to be funny & full of terrible space puns but instead it turned into something kind of sad. Wasn’t sure if I should post it but throwing it out into the void anyway. 
> 
> 1.5hr word sprint no editing inspired by shiro spewing pre k bad jokes twitter post

There are a lot of goals that Takashi Shirogane wants to kick before the official diagnosis of his disease threatened to derail the plans he had for his life.

Some were simpler than others.

“Come on, Keith. That was a good one, you have to admit it. Not even a smile? Not a… wait, I think I just saw something. There was a twitch. Definitely a twitch, right Matt?”

“Mmm, maybe. Evidence remains inconclusive.”

Shiro rubs his chin. The study hall is quiet at this time of the evening, most of the cadets making haste to the cafeteria before there was nothing but soggy green beans and some questionable looking tofu left behind but Shiro had dragged Matt with him to find a certain, stern faced cadet.

Sure enough, Shiro had found him in the corner, in the furthest spot away from the door as possible.

Shiro should be pleased that Keith is clearly taking his studies so seriously after a rocky first year adjusting to life on the Garrison base, but a niggling sense of guilt that Keith is working so hard to please _him_ in particular never seems to leave him alone.

Keith doesn’t bother to look up. His face is mostly obscured by the dark hair he refuses to cut (and no one bothers to push anyway) and he has a stack of textbooks in a pile beside him. He’s working hard.

Too hard.

A year into his training and he still hasn’t found a connection with cadets in his year level. No, connection wasn’t quite apt. He’d connected with a few faces, found a few rivals, discovered a few adversaries to his brilliant scores, but not so much… friends.

Shiro knew it would take time given his history, but it still worried him.

He gives Keith a slight nudge, prompting a roll of his eyes from the younger cadet. “What?”

“Have you even eaten today yet?” Shiro asks, trying for a change of tack. Matt catches his eye over Keith’s head.

Keith doesn’t look up. He doesn’t answer either.

Shiro gives him a beat before he can’t hold back the faintly exasperated sigh. “Keith, cut yourself some slack here. You still need to eat. You can still have a life-“

Keith’s head snaps up sharply. “Weren’t you the one who told me to fight my battles with my scores, not my fists?”

He’s got Shiro there.

“Yes, I did,” Shiro says slowly. He reaches a hand out and deliberately places a palm on the pages of Keith’s workbook then draws it towards himself. “But if your scores get any better, you’re going to send them all back to kindergarten. I think you’ve earned a break.”

Keith seems unsure, his brows furrowed together. There’s a tiny crack there in his façade that tells Shiro Keith wants to break free. He just needs a little nudge.

Shiro leans forward. “We can take the hoverbikes out.”

* * *

When he gets back to the apartment, the lights are on and his stomach drops.

He tries to be quiet as he lets himself in but he knows it’s useless.

“Leave your shoes outside if you’ve been racing in the desert again. The dust makes me sneeze.”

He freezes in the doorway at Adam’s voice. “Sorry,” he mutters. He pulls his boots off and tries to steal himself for the fight he knows is about to come. He can’t remember the last time he didn’t dread coming home. It wasn’t always like this, he’s sure. Once he’d been happy to come home to Adam, but that was before. Before the diagnosis, before the plan for his life, their life, had irrevocably changed course for the rocks.

“Where have you been?” Adam demands once the door is shut behind him.

“Racing in the desert, like you said.”

Adam’s temper is already frayed. Shiro knows he’s probably been at home and working himself into a lather all night. He’s barely stepped inside and feels less like a boyfriend than a kid that’s broken curfew.

“Do you how irresponsible that is? What if something had happened? What if you had had one of your attacks?”

Adam’s voice rises higher in pitch, grating against Shiro’s nerves. He can feel his own temper boiling under the surface. He’d had a good night. Matt had begged off the desert run, citing allergies of all things, so instead he’d run with Keith out past the Garrison lights (on silent to avoid detection) and out into the open air and under the stars. The engine droned loud enough to block out his thoughts, the wind whipped at his hair enough to make his heart race. And he’d laughed as the desert dust coated the insides of his nostrils. Then, at the end of it, they’d parked in the same spot they always did and talked. Somehow the only way to get Keith to talk was to park him out under the stars.

“I’m not fucking dead yet,” he snarls, pushing past Adam and into the bedroom. He regrets the venom as soon as it spills out but he’s so tired of the same old argument. The diagnosis had driven a wedge between them. It had turned them into different people. People Shiro didn’t even recognize anymore.

Where Adam had wanted to close ranks around him, to mother him and protect him and smother him in safety, the diagnosis had stripped away what little fear Shiro had left. He was on borrowed time. Fuck trying to be safe. And _fuck_ trying to eke out every extra moment of life if it meant he wasn’t allowed to live at all.

He strips off his clothes and flips on the shower. As expected, Adam materializes in the doorway with reproach and hurt written right across his face.

Fuck, that’s another thing Shiro hates. The hurt look Adam gives him. The I’m-looking-out-for-you-because-I-love-you-how-could-you-treat-me-this-way look. He cranks the water higher, hoping the steam can offer a kind of shield even if the falling water can’t.

When he gets out, Adam is in bed, sitting up against the backboard with a book in his lap. The few minutes in the shower did little to calm the roiling frustration inside his chest. Not for the first time, a surge of resentment rears up inside him before he shoves it aside and tells himself to Adam is just as scared as he is.

It doesn’t really help.

* * *

The time he spends with Keith has always been a bone of contention between himself and Adam but it comes to a head when Keith takes his side on the issue of the Kerberos mission. Shiro had been elated to be selected, only for Sanda to rudely haul himself in front of the brass and make a lot of noise about his disease.

It’s not going to stop him. _He_ knows that. _Sam Holt_ knows that. He’s got a couple of years yet before his time is up.

Keith is the one to find him, dragging his hand through his hair and staring off into the distance at the shuttle parked there.

“What are you going to tell Adam?” Keith asks him, unusually quiet. There are worry lines around his mouth Shiro thought they had managed to banish. Keith is worried, but unlike Adam, he’s not worried about the mission. He’s not worried that Shiro can’t handle it. No, he’s worried about the inevitable fallout when Shiro will refuse to back down.

Shiro glances at him. He looks older bathed in the gold light of the sunset, he’s far more mature than any other cadet in his year… but he’s still young. And it’s not fair that Shiro has been leaning on him like a crutch when things at home got too intolerable to bear.

“I’m going to tell him… I need my _space_.”

It takes Keith a good minute to catch the half smile on Shiro’s face. Okay, probably not the best time for a pun but he needs to lighten that frown on Keith’s face. Just a little.

Keith glares at him, punches him on the shoulder. It’s hard too, no holding back. Shiro laughs in surprise and rubs his arm. “Ow!”

Keith flashes him the most subtle of smirks and not for the first time, Shiro is grateful to have Keith in his life. He knows about Shiro’s illness now, but it hasn’t changed the way he regards him. If anything, he hits a little harder – just to remind Shiro he’s not withered away or weak yet.

He shakes his arm out, gives Keith a light shove in return. “Comet me, bro.”

Keith snorts. “Oh my god,” he mutters. “Will you stop?”

“What? What was that? Can’t hear you, I’m Neptune-ing you out-“

Keith groans and hip checks him hard enough he has to catch himself. He does it by throwing an arm around Keith’s shoulders and pulls him close. Handy that he’s just the right height to be comfortable.

“Alright, I’ll quit it with the puns,” he laughs. “But hey…. Thanks. Thanks for being here.”

Keith looks up at him then, a smile breaking out across his face. It’s not the wide, laughing one Shiro usually aims for, but this one is just as important all the same.

“Anytime,” Keith murmurs.

Yeah, there’s a lot of goals he still plans to kick, but seeing that smile on Keith’s face is right up there with the best of them.


End file.
